


Dangarang

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NB, Other, Pansexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: squishycielinwonderland asked: idk like junghee keeps buyin taem lingerie and stockings nd heels nd stuff and whinin for him to wear them more often nd taem is just kinda u//u nd is a lil nervous noot abt wearin them around the house nd stuff bc he doesn rly kno if he looks good in them and is a lil insecure but also likes them (secretly nd by that i mean not lmao) bc them make him feel nice and they also feel nice nd ye just junghee havin a thign for taems booty/legs in every au nd building his confidence uwu in peg au mayb?tumblr





	Dangarang

Taemin wipes an eye booger from the corner of his lid, frowning at it on his finger before wiping it on his towel and rubbing his hands over the rest of his face. He’s fresh out of the shower, kind of cold, kind of blotchy, kind of wincy every time his hair drips water down his back, but as he blinks at himself in the mirror, he likes what he sees. His eyes are bright, his skin is clear, his lips are plush and pink, his nose is doing that cute thing it does where it looks cute. He likes it. He likes himself. He looks nice today.

He _feels_ nice today. He smiles at himself as he tugs his towel from his waist to finish drying off, patting his legs dry and ruffling his hair out. The black strands fall around his face perfectly in that way he likes without him having to fuck with it and he practically beams with delight. He feels _pretty_ today. Pretty and happy about it. That almost never happens. He got a lot of shit for looking pretty in high school and it’s only recently that he’s starting to embrace it again. It’s only recently that he’s starting to embrace a lot of things about himself, actually, and it’s mostly because it's been years since he got out of that piece of shit school, yeah, but he won’t lie and say that Junghee hasn’t been a big help.

She’s so loud and proud and dedicated to crushing the patriarchy with her tiny little fists that it’s almost impossible for him to not unlearn all the shit that stops him from feeling good about himself. He thinks she’s out with Eunsookie right now at some early morning poetry slam. He’s not sure; he kind of just groaned and rolled over when she tried to wake him up and let him know. It was too early then. Now it’s at least three hours later and social inequality is still here now that he’s up and ready to face it. And face it he does, from looking decidedly more feminine to taking a fake dick up the ass as a straight dude.

Yeah, Junghee really makes him feel good about himself sometimes.

Since today is a cute day, he figures he might as well go to the trouble of trying some makeup as well, so he grabs his little makeup bag from the counter and pulls out his eyeshadow first. Fuck foundation. Today is also a lazy day. He goes for a smoky, smudged look and some almost perfect wings with the liner, dusts some blush on one cheek before changing his mind and wiping it off, and picks a clear gloss for his lips, just to give them a bit of shimmer. He pops his lips in the mirror twice and grins. Perfect. Cute as heckie.

Gathering up his towel, he slips out of the bathroom and up to their dresser, glancing at himself in the full length mirror next to it. Clothes. He really needs clothes. He tugs open one drawer and tugs on a big sweater, a floofy blue one that stops at the tops of his thighs and falls passed his hands. He flaps his sleeves a little bit with a little giggle. Definitely a cute day. He’s opening his underwear drawer for some boxers to chill in when his eyes fall instead on the colorful little area of boyshorts and thigh highs that Junghee’s bought.

They’re not hers; hers are in her own drawer, and are dark and studded and half fishnet and always give Taemin awkward boners. These ones are colorful, bubbly, cute ones that she bought specifically for Taemin, because she always says that he’d look stunning in them. She never can get enough of his legs and booty, but he doesn’t really feel it. He knows that he has nice legs, but he doesn’t think that they're _the_ legs to pull off thigh highs, and he knows that he has a nice butt shape, but he doesn’t really like how his skin looks. Stretch marks and freckles and hair that he always shaves and a weird butt pimple scar and--and he watched too much porn when he was younger. That fucked him up almost as much as the school did.

But, he thinks, as he bites his lip and looks between the stack of clothes in his drawer and  the reflection of his legs sticking out of the bottom of the sweater, it couldn’t hurt to try some on, just for a little bit. While Junghee isn’t here. She bought them to see him in them, but he hasn’t been confident enough with himself for that yet. Maybe another day. He tugs their little rip-off calendar on the dresser closer to see what she’s written down for the day; looks like a full schedule. Aw. She’s given him an alone day. He’s been needing one of those lately. She’ll probably be texting him little updates and whatnot anyway. She knows that he doesn’t like to be too alone on his alone days.

After staring at himself in the mirror for another few seconds, he decides, fuck it. Today is a cute day. Thigh highs practically triple the cute on anyone. He picks out a pair with thick, light blue and white stripes, lace trims, and white heart outlines on every other blue stripe, and then a light blue pair of boyshorts with little white hearts to match. Yeah. Perfect. He’s gonna be so fucking cute.

He scoots back to sit on the edge of their bed and wiggle the fabric up his legs. As soon as he tugs the boyshorts up over his ass he feels nicer already. Yes. Yes, this was a good idea. When he fixes the lace of the socks around both of his thighs he stands up and looks down, poking both the fabric and the areas of exposed skin above the lace and below his sweater with a little giggle. He slips back over to the mirror now and doesn’t even try to hide the grin that cracks open his face when he sees himself.

“Dangarang,” he mumbles, turning around and tugging the back of his sweater up to look at his butt. It’s fucking adorable. “I’m a babe,” he tells himself, wiggling his booty happily. He can’t even see his weird scar. He loves it. This is a momentous occasion and it needs to be documented--he lunges back onto the bed and reaches for his phone. Lifting it up and resting it on the headboard, he struggles on his stomach to try to get a good picture of his butt and feet kicking in the air; when he fails that, he grumbles and turns to his back to just take a cute picture of his legs bent at the knees instead. Good enough.

He debates for a moment on sending it to Junghee with his lip between his teeth. Maybe… maybe not. This is a thing that’s just for him, right now at least. He saves the picture on it’s own and just sends her a regular text about how dang cute he is today instead.

Less than three minutes later she texts him back, “Extra cute, you mean,” with a little winky face. He grins. She’s still out with Eunsookie somewhere, from the looks of all of her other texts she’d sent while he was still sleeping. Apparently she won’t be back until it’s time for dinner, and she’ll bring food home then, too. That’s good. That means he’ll have lots of time to be cute in his thigh highs. He wiggles off of the bed, flouncing his cute butt down to the kitchen to make himself a cute breakfast. Maybe later he’ll have a cute solo dance party and read some cute books, and then take a cute nap.

~

He’s making himself a cute lunch quesadilla and wiggling his cute booty to Shakira when he hears Junghee barging in the front door in her usual loud way. He freezes over the the half done tortilla he’s peeking under. Shit. It’s not even three; she’s not supposed to be home for another four hours, at least. She clatters around in the living room, calls something out that he’s too busy panicking to really hear. Shit shit shit. He’s still in his cute thigh highs, and while he’d been thinking that maybe he wouldn’t change out of them before she got home this time, he wasn’t expecting her so soon. He hasn’t had enough time to prepare himself yet.

He sees her rounding the corner to the kitchen and has a split second to do something, _anything_ \--he drops the spatula on the counter and dives for the fridge, yanking it open and hiding behind the door. That was a good plan, right? Sure it was. He attempts to rest his arms casually on the top of the fridge door as Junghee slips into the kitchen and looks up from her phone.

“Do I smell ques--uh--oh--um,” Junghee says, cocking a brow as she finds Taemin trying to tug his sweater down so the backs of his thighs have some kind of shelter from the cold. Fuck. “Just chilling, are you?” she asks, and god damn it.

“God damn it,” Taemin mutters. Fuck her and her puns. She cackles softly like she knows what he was just thinking and slinks up to the stove to watch his quesadilla sizzle in the butter. “What, um, what are you doing here?” he asks, as casually as possible. She looks up with a confused little frown.

“I texted you earlier,” she says. “I said I forgot my fruit cups and would be stopping by to get them before I went to watch Minjunggie’s practise.”

“Oh,” Taemin says. Did she? He fumbles in his sweater pocket for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling down her new texts. She did. Hmm. He stuffs it back into his pocket and looks up, only to look right at her as she peers up at him through her silver bangs. He suddenly remembers the slight makeup he put on that morning and flushes under her knowing smile.

“So,” she hums, “wanna hand me my fruit cups?” She nods behind him and Taemin realizes. The fruit cups. The ones that are in the fridge. That he’s currently hiding in. Right.

“Um,” he says. He turns around and thankfully only has to bend a little bit to grab a couple of her daily little snacks. “Here,” he mumbles, passing them over the top of the door. She takes them gratefully, dropping them in her bag and patting it closed. Then she leans up and gives him a little kiss.

“Just asking,” she says when she pulls away. “Why are you just chilling in the fridge?” Shit. Taemin feels his cheeks blushing pinker than the blush he almost put on earlier. He opens his mouth, closes it again, makes a little noise and shrugs exaggeratedly before putting his chin in his hand, leaning his elbow on the little egg rack inside of the door.

“No reason, really,” he says airily. He glances behind her and notices his quesadilla starting to smoke a little bit in the pan. “Can you, um, can you go flip that for me?” he asks, pointing a little finger out of his sweater sleeve. She glances over and thankfully agrees, scuttling over and reaching for his spatula. “I made you one, too,” he adds, pointing next at the little plate on the counter. “I was gonna save it for later, like, tonight, or tomorrow morning, or whatever.”

“Ooh,” Junghee says, looking excitedly around for it after she flips his over. She grabs a knife from the utensil drawer and cuts a slice. He watches her raise it to her mouth with excitement before pulling it away with a dejected little pout. “Did you put spinach in this?” she whines, looking at him with her big eyes. “Bae, no.”

“You need more iron. You heard what the doctor said last time,” Taemin says sternly, nodding pointedly at her quesadilla. “You can’t even taste it.” She gives him a grumpy little glare before frowning back at her quesadilla slice.

“Fine,” she grumbles, and takes a bite. He grins because she can’t even pretend like it’s not good. She chews, swallows, licks her lips and turns to lean against the counter and smirk at him. “Are you wearing the pink ones with the bows?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows knowingly.

Taemin feels his face burning hot and red, a stark contrast to the way his ass is slowly freezing bluer than the boyshorts he’s attempting to hide.

“Don’t--don’t you have--somewhere to be?” he splutters, gesturing wildly at the door. She giggles, hiking her bag more over her shoulder and grabbing a napkin from the countertop to hold her quesadilla slice with.

“I’ll be back later tonight,” she grins, turning to leave and waving over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure to call you before I stop to get food, so you can have time to change if you want.” She’s almost out of the front door when she stops again and calls, “Put the rest of my quesadilla in the fridge for me!”

Taemin breathes a sigh of relief when he finally hears the front door close. He lurches himself away from the fridge and closes it gratefully, frowning at the little goosebumps that have shown up on the tops of his thighs. As he scoots back to the stove to check on his quesadilla, he finds himself smiling, though. Junghee likes to fluster him a lot on purpose, but she does respect his boundaries when it comes to things that really make him insecure. Maybe he’ll send her that picture from before after all.

It takes him his entire quesadilla’s worth of eating time to debate with himself whether or not he _really_ wants to; in the end, he sends it to her with a quick message to please not reply to it. He can predict her reaction easily enough: excitement, pride, happy smiles at how cute he is, mild arousal at what a babe he is. Probably another winky face. He feels like getting her reaction confirmed would just make him even more embarrassed.

When he checks his phone again after he wraps the rest of her quesadilla up and puts it in the fridge, he sees that she saw his text a few minutes ago and hasn’t replied. Great. He might ask her to delete it later, but right now he doesn’t mind.

~

Her call comes when he’s hanging half upside-down off of the couch (with his cute ass legs sprawled over the back) and struggling to read the battle tutorial to this game upside-down. He drops the controller on his face when his thigh suddenly vibrates, groans and curses and heaves himself up to lie properly against the cushions and pull his phone out from where he tucked it into the lace against one of his legs.

“Hey,” he mumbles, wiggling to his side. He struggles to reach for the controller on the floor and keep the phone against his ear as Junghee greets him back.

“Hey pretty,” she says (Taemin drops the controller again), “I’m about to get food and head home, did you want anything specific?”

“Um,” Taemin says. “Onion rings?” He wanted to put onions in his quesadilla earlier, but they were out, and he’s been wanting some ever since. On the other line, Junghee snorts.

“I was looking for like, a name of a place,” she says. Taemin rolls his eyes. Like he even knows what restaurants she’s near.

“Just pick somewhere with onion rings, I don’t care,” he shrugs. “And don’t eat half of them on the way home like you did last time.” He knows that she did. _“They must have just underfilled the container”_ his ass. He hears her mumbling under her breath, mocking his demand. What a child.

“Fine,” she says though, and next he hears her loud ass truck rumbling to life. “I’ll be back in like, twenty minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Taemin hums. “Bye.” They hang up and Taemin lets his phone fall gently to the carpet. Twenty minutes. That means he has thirty minutes to change out of these thigh highs and into some regular pants before Junghee gets back, because she always purposefully underestimates her times for him. Half an hour to change his clothes if he wants to.

Does he want to? He’s not sure. He’s been changing his mind all day. He slides to the floor and stretches his legs out in front of him, surveying the blue and white stripes. He still looks and feels cute as a button, an the fabric is so soft against his skin that it’s like he’s being kissed by angels, but… he still doesn’t know if he wants Junghee to see. It’s almost ridiculous, he knows--it’s not like she hasn’t seen his legs before--but it’s different like this. Ugh.

He spends so much time debating on whether or not he should go change that before he knows it, she’s clattering at the front door and he has no time at all. Well, shit. He watches as she shoulders her way inside, silver-haired head looking down to make sure she doesn’t drop all of her bags, and fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is too soon. He hasn’t had enough time to prepare.

Yes he has, he had half an hour, but that’s not the point--he snatches for the hem of his sweater, draws his knees up, and tugs it down over his legs. Bless huge baggy sweaters. When Junghee looks up a few seconds later and sees him all curled up there on the floor, her smile goes from easy to amused.

“Couldn’t decide, huh?” she asks, booty checking the door closed behind her. Taemin wiggles his socked toes self-consciously even though she’s not making fun of him.

“I panicked,” he pouts. He looks her up and down, trying to find something to change the subject to. “Um--onion rings?” he asks. He can smell them from across the room. She laughs fondly, nodding and slipping forward to sit with him on the floor. She tosses her regular bag on the couch, hands him one paper bag and opens up another for herself.

“So what are you doing?” she asks, nodding at the tv screen. Taemin looks up, too. Oh yeah, he was playing a game, wasn’t he? He reaches for the controller again where he left it on the floor earlier.

“Uh, Final Fantasy Thirteen,” he says. Junghee rolls her eyes and takes his bag to open for him since he has no available hands. He can almost hear her unsaid, _“_ _Again?”_ and humphs. Yes, again. It’s not like she’s any better, replaying Ten all of the time. At least _he_ can skip cutscenes. She takes out an onion ring and he drops the controller to snatch it away before she can eat it herself. “Get your own,” he mumbles selfishly.

“I do have my own,” she says haughtily, showing him inside of her own bag. Then she drops it next to her hip. “Here.” She reaches up on the couch for a blanket, moving their bags and flapping it out over the both of them. “So you don’t have to stay all curled up,” she adds. Oh. That’s nice. Taemin straightens his legs out from under his sweater, glad that she still can’t see them. She still knows that they’re there, cute and pretty, so it’s kind of like showing her, he guesses. “Also,” she says, and he feels her fingers tapping on his knee under the blanket. “Can I?”

Can she. Hmm. Taemin doesn’t… see why that would be a problem. He doesn’t mind if she feels up his legs. She knows where his stretch marks are, and she knows not to draw attention to them. He feels his face heating up at just the thought of her fingers playing with the little lace trims, but he nods.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he says. She tugs his sweater sleeve down to press a happy kiss against his shoulder first, and then slides her hand up to his thigh. Her fingers slide over his skin, rub gently under the lace, dip teasingly between his legs before taking hold of the fabric and tugging it up to be snug and neat. Fuck. He scrambles with one hand for the controller and shoves the other into his bag to see if maybe she got him a little carton of milk like usual. Something to drink should help him blush less.

It really doesn’t, and by the time he’s halfway through his fries he’s so flustered he can barely even play right so he switches the tv to some random show instead. Junghee grins like a shit, but she does stop for a moment.

“Is it bugging you?” she asks. Taemin shakes his head, bending his other leg up and resting his chin on his knee.

“No, it’s… it’s nice,” he mumbles quickly. Fuck, now he’s blushing more. He’s so fucking easy. Tomorrow he’s gonna murmur so many god damn sweet little compliments into her ears she’ll be red for a week. That doesn’t really help him now, though, with her smiling against his shoulder and rubbing against his skin. Ugh. He tries to focus on eating his dinner, on finding a movie to watch, and on the way Junghee presses little kisses to his arm as she does the same with ease. After a while, it becomes easy; her hand turns soothing against his skin and he hardly even notices it.

He’s still reluctant to stand up with her when they get tired of watching bad movies and nibbling cold fries and want to go to bed, though. She gets up easily, stretching her limbs over her head and yawning. When she offers her hand to him with a little smile, he hesitates, crossing his legs under the blankets.

“Um,” he says.

“Oh, right,” she replies, hiding a little giggle behind her hand. “I’ll go… take a shower, and you can clean up here and go get ready for bed?” She winks and flounces off, leaving him thankful, but also with all of their garbage to clean up. He guesses that doesn’t really mind.

When he hears the obnoxious squeaking of the shower knobs is when he finally gets up and out of his little blanket lump. He smiles to himself as he fixes the blue lace around his thighs. Still a babe. Maybe he won’t change out of them after all, while she’s in the shower, and maybe he’ll let her keep feeling his legs up in bed. He gathers up their stuff, shoves all of the cold bottom-of-the-bag fries in his mouth at once, and crumples everything up to toss in the garbage can before heading to the bedroom. Once there, he peeks into the bathroom. Junghee’s got the shower curtain closed, and is humming to herself in that way she does; she won’t notice if he slips in to brush his teeth and wipe his makeup off really quick. He doesn’t wanna be kissing her with onion ring breath.

He figures, when he slips back into the bedroom, that he’ll just change his sweater to a loose t-shirt that drapes off of his shoulder. It gets kind of stuffy in their room at night, and Junghee likes when his shoulders do the thing. It’ll be nice. He wiggles his legs under the covers and grabs his phone to fuck around on while he waits for her to come out all snuggly and clean and smelling like Taemin’s strawberry bodywash.

She comes out with wet hair, a baggy tshirt with the sleeves cut off, red and black boyshorts, and black thigh highs with red ribbon laced up the sides of her legs

 _Oh._ Taemin was not expecting that. How did he not notice her outfit on the counter when he was in there barely fifteen minutes ago? Fuck. It’s basically the same as what he’s wearing now but so, so different. Her shirt shows off her powerful arms, the red and black of the lingerie make her seem sexual and in charge, and as she rubs a towel over her silver hair, it becomes mussed and disheveled. And here Taemin is, feeling small and cute and increasingly flustered with a boner that makes his boyshorts go from pleasantly snug to uncomfortably tight. Guh. Junghee catches him staring in the mirror over the dresser and grins.

“I figured, we could be babe buddies together,” she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Taemin swallows.

“Babe… yeah,” he mumbles. All day he’s been nothing but hesitant and shy when it came to thoughts of her seeing him in the lingerie; now, he wiggles his legs out of the blankets while she’s busy messing with her pills and vitamins by the dresser. He knew one day his extreme thing for her in thigh highs would ruin him more than usual. Today is that day. He wiggles to get comfortable, moving to his knees and sitting between his ankles like the complete sub she turns him into when she wears thigh highs like this.

He wishes he kept the makeup on.

When she turns around, he’s busy trying to tug the hem of his shirt down more to cover the embarrassingly awkward boner in his boyshorts. He freezes, looking at her with big eyes and flushed cheeks; she curses under her breath and he’s suddenly glad that there’s only one lamp on right now.

“Changed your mind, did you?” she asks, voice a lot breathier than it was a minute ago. He feels his face reddening even more under her gaze as he nods shyly. She steps forward slowly, as if she’s afraid that he’ll spook. “You’re sure?” she asks. Taemin nods again, watching her legs as they come closer. To be honest, he’s fast forgetting about _his_ thigh highs because all he wants now is _hers_ on either side of his head. He shifts to his hands and knees, dragging himself to the end of the bed where he can nuzzle against the red lace of Junghee’s lingerie and press a kiss to her skin. He thinks his shirt is riding up to expose his boyshorts but he doesn’t care anymore.

If he’d known it was this easy to get him to get over his insecurities, he would’ve told her to go buy some new thigh highs and walk through the front door with them on. They probably would have banged on the living room floor.

Well--he’s not really _over_ his insecurities. More like, he has so much of a fucking boner right now that he’s willing to look passed them, but if she starts paying a little too much attention to his legs he might get all anxious again, and he’ll definitely be all blushy about it again tomorrow morning.

He has a feeling, from the way that she cups his face, sits him on his ankles, sits in his lap, and presses their mouths flush together with a little moan, that she’ll take what she can get.


End file.
